


Hunger (Vilkas/stranger)

by Nudebeme



Series: The Artist and Vilkas [19]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol, Bi-Curiosity, Homoeroticism, M/M, Oral Sex, Stranger Sex, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5755324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nudebeme/pseuds/Nudebeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freshly a werewolf, a young Vilkas suffers immensely from urges he can no longer keep hidden. Far from home and unable to bear his starvation, the young companion meets someone who eases his suffering in the thick of a tavern crowd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger (Vilkas/stranger)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anonymous request on Tumblr to see Vilkas' first (gay) oral sex experience!

Hunger dominates his life. Every waking moment to every sleepless night, Vilkas' soul feels as though it has been consumed by this great and impossible hunger to which there is no sating. The beast blood is a furious thing, it took every part of a man and reclaimed it, and for such a young man it was just too much for him to bear. Vilkas had finally grown out of his teen years and into a long-limbed body, one that continued to vex him with it's most base desires burning out of control. 

But if there was one thing about Vilkas that had stuck since the day of his birth, it was that those things he desired most, he purposely kept out of his reach. There was no rhyme or reason to it, it simply was the way the man had always been. 

And it was slowly killing him. 

The young companion kicked his mud-caked boots on the stairs leading up to the local tavern, smelling of blood and earth. The wretched job was done, and it was with some small relief to Vilkas that he was able to leave Skyrim's borders even for a short stay. The air in the forested land just south of Riften just had a certain smell to it that his wolf picked up so well. Here, he was a nobody. Here it was okay to take a deeper breath no matter how tight his chest always felt. 

But he was starving. The delicious smells of cooked food and Imperial ale beckoned him hopelessly in, the light banter of a small-town tavern gone quiet at the sight of the imposing Nord in his armor. Sometimes he enjoyed the way folks stared, sometimes he despised it; he just wasn't sure how he felt tonight. Anger bubbled inside him at the sight of local men tearing cooked beef from the bone with their teeth, drinking heartily from mugs until foam ran in rivulets down their throats. He wanted to eat, to drink, and a lot more-

“I'll take whatever's hot and ready. I'll start with an ale, keep it coming.” Vilkas demands, ears still unaccustomed to the deepening of his voice. He sat at the bar, his stool skittering on the wood floor as he pulled himself to sit. Eyes where on him, the wolf was so aware of this; Vilkas turns and locks eyes with two miners who stared shamelessly, casting a cold glare upon them until they looked away. There was no need for viciousness, but there was no way he could contain it. 

He couldn't tear into his food fast enough the moment it came to him on a cheap plate, the barkeep stepping back in alarm seeing such ferocity in how the Nord ate, like he'd been starved his whole life. He drank his ale from full to empty in seconds flat, slamming the pewter back upon the table for a second round. 

“You Nords can eat!” He comments, taking his mug for a second serving.

“Aye, I came here to eat and drink. Not to listen to you.” Vilkas growls, contents of his plate vanishing with as much manners as any man from the mountains. Nothing more needed to be said, Vilkas devouring everything given to him until with a drop of his fork, he couldn't fit anymore. He rest his forehead in his gloved hands, groaning in subdued suffering; he'd eaten more than he should have, but the starvation still remained. 

“...That'll be all, sir?” The barkeep dared to ask, staring at the length of the steel greatsword at his hip. In all honesty he wanted the frightful Nord out of here and away from his regulars as fast as possible.

“Give me a room. I don't care which one it is, as long as it's got a bed and a door, I'll take it.” Vilkas groans, eyes shut tight against his palms. He just wanted to get out of his armor and fast, he wasn't one to complain about cheap rooms. 

“It's the one in the back, it's yours for the night, stranger.” 

“Good.” Vilkas reaches into his coinpurse, the hefty size of it catching the eyes of several onlookers from across the hearth. Vilkas didn't make it a secret he had money, no one dared to tousle with him in these small villages of farming folk. He threw the money down, and a good bit extra- “And uh, Thank you.” 

With that first glimmer of politeness he was up and out, taking long strides through the crowd to a room just large enough to house a gangling young man like him. The door stuck, and nearly every patron turned to look as the Nord wrenched the door open with a growl, dust falling from the ceiling with a creak so loud it silenced everyone. Vilkas turned to look at the bar, embarrassment hidden poorly behind surprise. Everyone was staring at him, and it did something to the wolf inside him that simply enraged him. 

“What in Shor's name are you looking at?” He snarls to the nearest man, but his eyes locked helplessly upon someone beyond the flaming hearth who watched him with just as much intensity. Whatever the man said next he was deaf to, firelight catching on the face of a young man who looked upon him in such a way he didn't have time to react. 

He slammed the door behind him, resting his back against it and finally free from this social torment. Resting his eyes, only the memory of the man's face lingered behind his lids; an undetectable heritage, not a year younger than Vilkas himself. He wished he could control himself, could put a muzzle on the wolf, just to save himself from this awkwardness...

Throwing off his armor did nothing to quell the constant heat that poured from his body. He was near to sweating even in the chilly air, finding each breath he takes not satisfying his blood for air. It's an awful feeling, one that he has yet to come to terms with even after surviving as a werewolf for these past few years. Vilkas falls to his knees at his fur bed, collapsing onto his palms as he struggled to relax himself. It just hurt so bad, this starvation, not even knowing just what he was hungry for but always yearning.

Tears welled up in his eyes, images flashing of chasing prey, of snapping tendons from muscle and blood dripping down his chin. Did he crave destruction? The moon shone pale down upon him through the slotted window, and there he curls himself up for long minutes before he could contain his unknown urge. 

Finally, he thought he could let himself out. Vilkas groans, sitting up and slipping into the simple set of clothing he kept in his travel bag, lacing up his leather boots. Deep, controlled breaths kept him calm, the drinks he guzzled finally settling in his blood. When he opened the door next, he knew all eyes where on him. The only ones he could see where the dark pair in the very same spot from across the hearth, the young man seated with legs crossed and a empty mug in hand. 

He took the only seat cozy enough for a man of his size, directly across the hearth from the young thing who watched him. Vilkas raised a bare hand to his mouth, absently chewing on his knuckle as he made it no secret of where his pale eyes rested. Vilkas was never taught of the rudeness of staring, and now that he'd gotten himself settled, stare is all he could do. 

Vilkas' cold eyes flickered up and down the man's frame, studying his every detail unashamedly. Well built, cutoff sleeves exposing strong muscles from what seemed like a hard life of work. There was no telling his origins, long, dark hair and dark eyes, and now that he began to smile, Vilkas' heart choked at the sight of his unmarred, straight teeth. For a town full of bumpkins, something about him shone like a star and the wolf inside Vilkas couldn't tear away. With that smile, the ache inside him instantly changed.

He held his breath as the young man stood from his chair, lifting it with ease and carrying it the short distance between him and Vilkas, placing it directly beside the Nord's. Every hair on the Nord's body stood on end, wide eyes locked on this stranger who smiled at him in a way so little have. When he spoke, his blood went aflame.

“Sorry you're having a bad time here.” the accent was undoubtedly Imperial, light and smooth. Hadn't Vilkas been so confused he'd have said something, but the stranger seemed fine to talk for the both of them. “Not too many pass through here, so forgive the mess.”

“Euh... You don't have to apologize for them.” Vilkas blurts out, eyes darting between his face and his empty mug. 

“...The name's Alair.” He extended his hand, and Vilkas couldn't help but flinch, Alair withdrawing himself quickly. 

“..Vilkas.” 

“Vilkas. That's a good name. So, you don't shake in Skyrim?” He grins, the whiteness of his teeth making Vilkas gulp. For whatever reason this man wanted to talk to him, he couldn't figure out in the least... but Vilkas didn't want him to leave.

“Sorry, I'm a bit on edge. I've all manner of business I'm late for.” 

“Well, we both have something to apologize for, then. Mind if I got you a drink?”

Vilkas wasn't going to say no, especially when he saw the young man turn to walk towards the bar. Vilkas' eyes locked on his legs, the shape of his ass as he walked with a sway that'd put a harlot to shame. Sweat once again beaded at his temples, desires he for so long struggled with coming to light again in his mind. He watched his masculine frame lean against the bar, deaf to the words he shared with the barkeep. 

“Give me something strong for the guy back there, put it on my tab will you?” 

“I'm sick of lending drinks out to your Johns, Laelius.” 

“Shut up, just do it, will you? You know I'll pay you back.”

“I have enough trouble as it is without having a little man tart loitering about. Fine,take your drinks and get to work.” 

Vilkas watched him all the way back, Laelius knowing he's got this handsome stranger in his grasp for the night. It was so obvious to him, which ones needed his services the most. The anger this Nord carried was curable with just a handful of septims, this he knew for sure. 

“There you are, Sir Vilkas. Now don't you look more at home like that?” He smirks, carefully finding the moment to unlace the collar of his green shirt, exposing suspicion of his hair-dusted chest. Vilkas bit his lip, a massive desire welling in him to drag his tongue along the exposed collar below the man's throat, to capture the salt of his sweat and musk. For years he's fought with these urges and no longer blocks them from his mind- when they're exposed to him like this, it's damn near impossible for him to ignore. He wanted the man, his wolf wanted him, and too many years have gone by that he'd refused himself this need. 

“Thank you..erm, I've forgotten your name?”

“Alair.” The smile on the strangers face was genuine, watching the Nord guzzle down his drink with a band of pink forming at his cheeks. He won't deny the man was as divine as they come, and for a local floozy it wasn't often he had the chance to snag a man he'd actually want to look in the eye while they came. “Just let me know if you need me to remind you again.” 

Vilkas grinned, and Laelius admits he was smitten. Long moments went by where Laelius expected the awkward man to come up with something to say, but this Vilkas couldn't come up with a single thing. He simply stared, Laelius watching the way his full lips parted, the soft pink a striking contrast to his painted eyes. 

“...So tell me what's got you so stressed?” He tried to start conversation, Vilkas shaking from his desperate thoughts. 

“I'm far from home, and alone. Any other source of stress is just built off of that, I suppose.” Vilkas sighs, reaching a fine hand up to rub at his brow. Staring at the man too long had finally taken it's toll, the straightforward Nord blurting out something he should have reconsidered. “-You sitting so close is a stress of it's own.” 

“Ah, such a shame. A man like you can't be left to be lonely.” Alair sighs, leaning forward on his chair and voice down low, ready to give his pitch. “You don't like me sitting so close?”

“I don't. If I could have you closer, I'd be happy.” Vilkas puts down his mug, enough drink and eros in his blood to ask for what he really wants. 

“Well aren't you lucky I'm so eager to please?” He said, and Vilkas could already feel his entire body tingling with desire. He wanted to mate, the feeling was so strong he couldn't even find it in himself to care anymore whether or not it felt wrong to need another male so badly. He'd been dying for this ever since he'd come of age, and he couldn't bear the agony another moment more. 

Alair inches his chair closer, but both of them knew at that point this wasn't the kind of close Vilkas wanted. The Imperial could see the lust simply oozing out of him, and if they weren't surrounded by locals, Vilkas was sure he'd have jumped the beautiful man right in his chair. 

Vilkas wasn't one to bullshit, he wanted to consume Alair and there was little else he could possibly think of saying- “My room's over there. Come with me.” Vilkas made to look like he was about to stand up, the tavern escort beating him to the chase. He was standing, and Alair caught the suspicion of what looked like a tent forming in Vilkas' pants. He'd been through this countless times before, but he couldn't recall ever being so intrigued as to what was in his John's pants. Vilkas strode eagerly towards his room, eyes cast down and avoiding any wandering eyes. 

Alair, or Laelius, glanced back at the barkeep with a grin, a silent promise not to cause too much of a ruckus. By the time he'd closed the door behind him, Vilkas had his hands on his hips, holding him in a way that surprised Alair to no end. Before they did this, he needed the man to know his price-

“You have me fo-” Before he could even start, Vilkas smashes his lips into his, the Nord's sharp stubble gliding along his own. His smell was intense, not bad, but something inhuman lingered in it and it's all Alair could think about as he was led from the door to the wall, hands grabbing Vilkas by the collar and pushing him away.

“..What..What's the matter?” Vilkas moans, his lips already red from the ferocity of his kiss. Alair lifted a hand and placed it on Vilkas' mouth, keeping him away long enough to let him know the deal.

“Easy there. I've got what you need, but it doesn't come free.” 

“What are you saying?” Vilkas frowns, letting go of the man and backing away in shock- 

“50 septims and I'll blow you like no woman ever has. 100 and you have all of me.” 

“You're a prostitute?” Vilkas stammers, hands raised in shock. His heart sunk tremendously, yet the heat pooling in his cock refused to wane. Horny as he is, Vilkas wasn't sure about his first lay with a man to be purchased. The fact hurt, but more painful was his need. 

“I thought you knew that the minute I sat next to you! Listen, do you want me or not?”

“...I do. Just..I've never been with a man before.” Vilkas frowns, an intense sadness in his eyes even Alair couldn't stand to see. If he was hoping that what happened between them was something special, Alair suddenly felt very guilty. His Johns never wanted to kiss, never wanted to embrace; the fact that Vilkas did so instantly was telling to the escort that he'd thought this was real. 

“Never? Well you have no idea what you're missing, handsome.” 

“..And for 100 septims you can give that to me?” Vilkas bitterly says, staring at the delicious shape of the man's muscles, the bristle of beard on his cheeks. He wanted this, he'd die if he didn't get it now..but from a hooker? He really had no choice.. Alair reached out, running the palm of his hand up and down Vilkas' tented crotch. The feeling alone sent him into shivers, and he couldn't say no. 

“Treat me well, and I treat you well.” 

Vilkas grit his teeth, the sensation of Alair now jerking him through his pants becoming all he could think about. “Fuck, just...yes. Just don't stop.” 

“It's a deal.” Alair moans, talented lips leaning forward and tugging at the lacing of Vilkas' shirt, pulling it apart with ease to see his broad chest. Vilkas' hands where on him again albeit more stiffly this time, unsure of the boundaries of his new employee. He traced his palms up and down the man's figure, being led towards a wall where Alair could make quick work of his clothing. Vilkas felt as if he'd been reset to zero, the passion he felt for Alair feeling restricted by such bad news. 

“Where's the savage that was just here a minute ago? You have me, babe. Now come and take me.” 

How in Oblivion was Vilkas supposed to react? Swallowing the bitterness down, Vilkas reached for the man and tried to claim what he so wanted- his lips crashed into Alair's neck, hot tongue and lips tasting his skin and the wolf's senses picking up the metal tinge of his blood just beneath the skin. Inside, he was aflame; his hands reach for Alair and are all over him, tugging at his shirt, trying to know the feeling of a man for the first time. 

“Vilkas, mmm..” the tart whined, dominating hands roaming his chest, his back, delving down to take handfuls of his firm ass. “You want to fuck that ass, don't you?” Vilkas grit his teeth, fighting the urge to bite down on his throat and silence him; he didn't need this fake pillow talk. He leaned up and silenced Alair with a kiss, one that soon filled his mouth with his tongue; Johns never kissed...or at least, never like this. 

The Nord pulled them both into the bed, listening to the creaking of their combined weights. Vilkas smothered him with his kisses, the fiery man seeming more keen on exploring and consuming the man rather than using him as a piece of meat. Alair didn't seem to know how to react, simply clinging to Vilkas' back and allowing the Nord to paint him with his hands. What he didn't realize is that with every kiss, Vilkas was freeing himself from a lifetime of famine. 

Alair raised his hips, ground them against Vilkas' hips in a desperate attempt to get the man to move on, beginning to revel in the way the sheer friction against his cock wrought a choked cry from Vilkas' lips. He sought more of it eagerly, Vilkas frotting against him before having the sense to tear away his pants, to finally take hold of another manhood like he'd so yearned for. Alair's clothing peeled away under his hands, the escort doing his share and revealing all of Vilkas' toned body. 

“Like what you see?” Alair flirts, spreading his legs out beneath Vilkas and exposing his perfect little pucker, an average-sized cock resting stiffly beside his navel. Vilkas merely snarled in excitement, unsure of what he wanted first; he simply wanted it all. He dove down, sucking and nipping his way down Alair's chest, running his lips over his peaked nipples, squeezing his chest as one would a woman.

Vilkas had fantasized about this for so long, remembering back to the countless nights of stroking himself at the idea of sucking on another man's cock, to pleasure him until they climax as one. To say it was a fantasy was...putting it lightly. Vilkas was intimidated by him now, Alair's perfect manhood inches from his mouth, the escort watching Vilkas in curiosity as he licked his lips in thought. 

“What do you want Vilkas? Take it.” Alair smiled to the feeling of Vilkas cautiously wrapping his hand around his length, inspecting him. “You want to suck me?” 

“Ah..” Vilkas moaned, grown impossibly hard “I've wanted this for years.” His wolf picked up the heady scent of the other man's arousal, the droplet of precum that gathered in a bead at the head of his cock. 

“Suck me..” the tart whispers, and Vilkas obeys. Sensations overwhelm the werewolf as he sucks down the man's cock entirely, the silken hardness against his tongue feeling like ecstasy. Sucking a woman didn't compare, not to this, Vilkas shuddering immensely as he bobs his head up and down, wringing pleased sighs from his hire's throat. The Nord could have gotten off on the act alone, hands placed between Alair's thighs, allowing himself time to discover his new role. Little praises spilled from him, Vilkas reaching forward and willing the man to place his hands on the back of his head. 

“Mmm!” Vilkas yelps, excited by the steady thrusts of the man's hips, his cock plunging into his mouth at a rhythm Vilkas so enjoyed. Alair could tell the man loved it, wanted more- he began to fuck Vilkas' throat eagerly, enjoying a John willing to please. Vilkas' eyes watered, pulling away to cough roughly against his arm. 

“You like that, Vilkas?” He reaches forward, running his thumb against the man's wet lower lip. “Is this what you've been aching for?” 

“Aye..” Vilkas sighs, dreamily. “I want to make you cum.” 

Grinning, Alair sits up, pushing Vilkas to sit beside him. He was beginning to understand what kind of lover Vilkas was, and knew what he needed. “Get on your knees, I'll blow my load all over that handsome face.” Those words wrenched a smile out of Vilkas, and what a handsome one it truly was. Alair wouldn't have any trouble getting off tonight.

Alair stood, taking Vilkas' hands and bringing them to his body, making the Nord stroke his wet cock right before his face. The nord's own was livid and red, looking so beautiful perched against his thigh- Alair knew he'd be pleasing him shortly. “You want me to fuck you?” He asks, and Vilkas merely moans in response, opening his mouth and letting his hire take him again. 

He wasn't gentle. Alair wrings his fingers through Vilkas' silken black hair, holding his head steady as he sets a pace they both enjoyed. Vilkas finally became lost, eyes drifting shut and indulging in every sense of the moment. If it was his deepest desire to be held down and bred then so be it, Vilkas accepted every bit of his lust and let the man fuck his mouth like a whore. In the middle of it all, Vilkas reached between his legs and tugged himself in time. 

Alair normally looked away, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the beauty that was Vilkas' face as he quickly climbs over the edge, fucking his mouth hard enough before pulling away, holding the Nord's head back as he paints his face in white streaks, moaning lowly in his throat. Vilkas peeked his eyes open, mouth hanging wide, living in complete rapture. The taste of semen hit his tongue for the first time, and he so eagerly lapped it up, piqued by the unusual taste. 

“Ugh, you are a pretty thing. You where born to suck cock.” the stranger sighs, happy to see that Vilkas had done most of the work for him. The compliment was taken to heart, Vilkas unable to bring himself to lap up the entire load just yet- he reaches over and wipes his face with his discarded shirt, Alair preparing himself to return the favor. 

“I'll bet you want to fuck me now, don't you?” Alair leans back on the bed, taking in the sight of Vilkas' length and knowing it would be punishing. 

“No. I'm not fucking you for money.” Vilkas moans, sitting up at the bedside. He felt it was wrong, but to have the man suck him off? He wasn't going to say no to that. Alair crawled his way over and sat between the seated man's legs, staring up at him with the Nord's cock in hand.

“I've been doing this for a while, and I've never met a man quite like you.” Alair grins, easing his mouth over the crown of Vilkas' cock, delighting in the yelp it drew from him. Eyebrows drawn down and red-faced, Vilkas wouldn't last a minute like this. The escort sucks him down like no one's ever done before, his nose buried in the short wiry hairs on Vilkas' groin. 

With a gentle nod Vilkas held the man by the shoulders, Alair sucking him up and down so hard he was seeing stars. “Unnfh!” Vilkas gasps, spreading his legs out wide and bucking up into his mouth, every single second drawing closer to sweet relief from his hunger. Alair peeked up, amazed at how such a beautiful man could have gone this long without this. What man of his kind wouldn't want him? 

Vilkas' entire body shudders, collapsing back onto his elbows and a fire spreading through him so hard he couldn't contain his wail. The entire tavern must have heard it, but Vilkas came so hard his cock shot his load long across the floor, almost hitting the wall behind Alair. The Imperial gently stroked his cock up and down long after his climax, reveling in the way it slowly softened in his hand. Vilkas was reduced to a panting, limp mess and Alair felt proud that he'd taken this young man first. 

“Since you where so sweet, You just pay me whatever you feel I was worth.”

“Nngh...I don't have enough money in my purse if that where so.” Vilkas moans, resting his arm over his eyes and catching his breath. He continued to charm Alair, who simply settled to get dressed and wait beside the Nord until he got his payment. 

It felt incredibly awkward, but the exhausted Nord managed to squat by his belongings and empty out his coinpurse of septims, more than 100 certainly; Alair was pleased. 

“Here, Fuh... This is all I can give you if I want to make it home.” Vilkas sighs, dragging himself back onto his bed and resting quietly, the thick cloud of fury that had surrounded him seemingly vanished for now. 

“You know what? You're sweet. You scared everyone when you came in, but you have a good heart. I'm glad I met you.” Alair spoke from the heart, finding it a bit sad that Vilkas merely lay there covering his face afterwards, thinking the Nord may still be unfulfilled. The man needed love, not whatever this was. Alair could only hope that he finds it one day. 

“Mmm... Sorry, Not much for compliments.” Vilkas groans, sounding half-asleep. Alair reaches down to take the man's hand, blue eyes peeking up at him while he gave Vilkas a gentle kiss on the hand before leaving him alone. The door knocked behind him, and Vilkas allowed himself to be consumed by the memories of tonight. If he felt bad about this tomorrow morning, then so be it. At least for now, he felt full. 

~~

“I told you to keep them quiet, 'Lius. You're scaring the old folks.” 

“Don't give me that. The guy paid me enough for my rent for the next month, so be happy about it.” 

“I don't know how you can bend over to any old bastard that comes crawling in here.”

“Shut it up. He's a good man... just having a hard time. That's what I'm here for.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just pay your tab and go clean up, you look filthy.”


End file.
